


Here Lies the Heart of Earth's Greatest Defender

by ThisRoseHasAnotherName



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Be Safe Please!, F/M, Happy is there for Peter, I'm so sorry for this, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kinda, Not a fix-it by any means, Pepper organized the funeral, Peter Parker Has Anxiety, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Sad bois, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting, seriously, tony stark's funeral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-11-02 08:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20681759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisRoseHasAnotherName/pseuds/ThisRoseHasAnotherName
Summary: He just wanted Tony to be there.And he wasn't.One-shot taking place during Tony's funeral.





	Here Lies the Heart of Earth's Greatest Defender

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry! I have a lot of angst (still) about Tony's death, so here we are. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW: Self-Harm, vomit, death
> 
> Read safely,y'all

Peter wonders how he would feel about this. He probably wouldn’t mind, considering Pepper, the person who knew him best in the entire world was the one to organize everything. Fitting that it should be her, isn’t it? The woman who encouraged Tony to get his shit together, and doing it for him when he couldn’t, being the one to send him off to the next life. 

Peter, however, hates it. He hates all of it. The people here, all grieving for the same person, but not ever really knowing him, including Peter. The fact that it’s sunny outside when the whole world should be raging in a storm at the loss of it’s greatest defender. There was a strange kid around his age he noticed way in the back that he’d never even seen before, much less heard about. 

He hates that Tony isn’t here to smack all of them on the back of the head and tell them to lighten up and have a drink (“Except for you, kid.”). He hates the fact that he will never, ever see Tony again, and he will never get to tell him that he loved him, and that he looked up to him more than anyone else in the entire world, and that he is so, so sorry that it ended this way, without any goodbyes or final farewells. 

He just wanted Tony to be here. 

And he wasn’t.

______

Peter is sure the image of the arc reactor slowly drifting to the bottom of the lake will haunt him for the rest of his life. 

As he heads inside the lake house, he remembers how relieved he was when Mr. Stark saved him from drowning in the cold Atlantic Ocean in the middle of the night after being dropped out of the sky by a flying vulture man. The thought of it sends both a shiver and a gush of warmth through him. 

He stands in the corner, looking out at the people milling about the room, sharing stories about him that he can’t not hear. Every time someone says his name, it draws his attention like a flare. 

Peter grits his teeth and pinches his fingernails into his palms and tries to stick it out, but everyone is talking about Mr. Stark like they’ve already accepted the fact that he is gone and never coming back. Peter doesn’t want to accept it. 

He is beyond tired of losing people he loves. First his parents, then Uncle Ben, and now him. The one that was supposed to be untouchable, concealed and protected by layers of iron. 

Peter’s spidey-sense that had been buzzing all day escalated into a whistle, and he instinctively jerked his whole body to the right, hitting the refreshment table with enough force to send the glass dishes with the food and drink still in them straight to the floor. The glass jar that had held the lemonade shattered on impact, the tiny pieces of glass sliding across the floor. The noises grated on his already weirdly sensitive ears, and he couldn’t help but clap his hands over his ears while turning to see what it was that had set off the tingle. He saw Pepper with her hand outstretched, ready to place on his shoulder, a shocked expression on her face that slowly melted to one of understanding. Peter finally realized that he was breathing too quickly and much too strained to be comfortable and that his lungs were actually starting to hurt now. 

He knew his eyes were screaming _help me!_ but all he choked out was “So sorry!” before bolting out the door, hands still over his ears. The sobs he’d been choking back throughout the whole funeral were making an appearance, full force, and he didn’t want anyone to see him when they did. 

The lake was in front of him, the lake with Tony Stark’s heart in it, so he swerved to the right, towards the trees. Just in time for his legs to give out, Peter spotted a small purple tent. He didn’t really think about it, didn’t really consider what might be in it, or whose it might be when he practically threw himself through the door and onto the floor. He didn’t even look around, beyond checking if it was occupied, before covering his eyes and choking on the sobs trying to escape his chest. 

He prayed that Pepper wouldn’t be the one to come after him. Compared to what she must be feeling, Peter felt like he didn’t even have the right to grieve as much as he was. It wasn’t like he had any official connection to the man, beyond a casual agreement that Tony would be providing an “upgrade, top to bottom,” and advice when Peter asked, and those two hugs that didn’t even really count, because Peter died right after the first one, and then Tony died right after the second. It doesn’t count if the person you are hugging hugs you because you are dying, or are just relieved that your plan to save the universe worked. 

Peter coughed, trying to breathe and also feeling like it wouldn’t be that hard to just stop. His body had given up once before, it could do it again. Wouldn’t he deserve it, if he was so horrible he didn’t even deserve to have loved ones? Why did they always die? Peter would give himself for any of them in a heartbeat. 

He was terrified that May or Ned or MJ or Pepper, or even Happy would be next. Or, God forbid, Mr. Stark’s actual daughter whom he had learned existed right before the funeral. 

How awful was it that Mr. Stark had a real kid who wouldn’t even remember him? Peter knew he couldn’t remember his own parents. 

Peter’s spidey sense blared, and he knew someone was coming. Who it was, or what their intentions were, he didn’t really care. But when someone grabbed his wrist, Peter couldn’t help the instinct to push the person back. 

Vaguely, he heard an “Oof, really, kid?” that he recognized as Happy. “You really need to stop that, Peter.” 

Peter didn’t know what Happy was talking about and didn’t really care. He felt Happy grab his wrist for a second time, and he tried to push him off, but he just pulled Peter with him when he fell back. 

Peter was on his knees, sitting over Happy who was on his back on the ground, sobbing almost too hard to keep himself upright. He felt a slight sting in his left wrist and looked down at it. His suit jacket had somehow gotten shucked off and his sleeve was rolled up, revealing a heavily scratched, bleeding forearm. 

The sight of it shocked his tears to a stop for a moment, before coming back harder than ever. He sat back on his heels, allowing Happy to sit up and take both of his wrists in hand. When Peter pushed Happy back for the third time, it wasn’t because he didn’t want him to be there, not exactly, but because he had bile rising in the back of his throat that was about to come out. 

Peter pushed his way over to the entrance of the tent, banging his knee on something. Hot liquid came spewing out of his mouth, burning his throat. He tried to inhale but just ended up coughing when he breathed in puke. Happy, who was decidedly unhappy, was rubbing his back and attempting to shush him. 

“Peter, you need to calm down, buddy. You are making yourself sick, you hear me?” 

Peter tried to nod, but his body was shaking so much, he didn’t know if Happy could tell the difference. 

“Take a deep breath, Peter. Do it now, bud, you gotta breath.” Happy sounded worried, actually worried, and Peter just wanted to tell him to go so he wouldn’t be pulled into whatever trap Peter managed to set that killed all the adults in his life. 

When Happy slapped his back lightly, just enough to get his attention, Peter finally managed to take a full breath that was more like a gasp, but good enough. 

“There ya go, Pete,” Happy encouraged, relieved. “In and out, just like that.”

Peter heaved, on his hands and knees on the ground, feeling absolutely miserable. Here he was, making a fool out of himself, while one of Tony’s best friends tried to comfort him when Peter should be the one giving comfort. 

Happy couldn’t have known what Peter was thinking, but he said, “It’s okay, Pete. It’ll get better for all of us. It might take a while, but we are all here to help each other, understand?” 

Peter’s nod was more distinguishable this time. 

“Yeah, Happy,” he gasped. "Yeah."


End file.
